


Everything I Could Have Asked For

by butterflyknife



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Coping, Established Relationship, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Lost Love, Terminal Illnesses, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-02 14:33:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflyknife/pseuds/butterflyknife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ms. Clara Pauling has a big job. From learning under the wing of the Administrator to keeping track of the men that work for her, Ms. Pauling hopes to one day take over the RED and BLU industries that her boss oversees. After falling head over heels in love with the Medic of the RED team, everything seems to go seamlessly for the sweet, mousy assistant.</p>
<p>But then tragedy strikes.</p>
<p>Suddenly, Ms. Pauling finds herself swept up in a battle she never thought she had to fight. All hope that she had for her future and the mercs seems lost from her grip. Putting aside their differences, RED and BLU must come together to help the one young lady they share a common love for and prepare for the journey...and heartbreak...ahead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I regret absolutely everything and I apologize in advance.

"Alright boys, let's wrap it up and head home!" The small, feminine voice of Ms. Clara Pauling, the Administrator's assistant, suddenly came echoing through the gray, Spackle walls of the RED and BLU industry buildings. Her voice bounced off the chrome, causing a sweet change in tone as opposed to the abrasive, condescending tone of the Administrator. The mercenaries of the RED and BLU teams paused in confusion as they listened to the peculiar announcement.

"Ms. Pauling?" Soldier's voice was the only one to be heard among the others that stood in the large room. "Is that you?"

In the quite familiar black leather chair sat the petite, curvy framed Ms. Pauling, her eyeglasses glinting with the reflection of the tower of screens that were homed in on the mercs in their stopped combat. The two plugs that tapped into the teams' bases were secured into their slots. The microphone connected to her headset sat gracefully on her rosy cheek, her lipstick worn and faded from the day's wear. She smiled to herself slightly, feeling the power controlling the two teams in her fingertips as she traced over the keys controlling the capture points.

"Indeed!" She beamed, listening to the echo replaying back in her headphones.

On the battlefield, each combatant lowered his weapon, staring at the nearest comrade in confusion. "Is there a problem back at HQ?" Soldier looked towards the ceiling, as though he was talking to a deity, and not a mousy assistant at her bosses' desk.

"No. It's midnight." Ms. Pauling couldn't help but laugh a bit.

It was as though someone had flipped a light switch. With the knowledge of how much time had passed, every fighter nearly collapsed with exhaustion. Their weapons were stored in their carriers strapped to their waists and shoulders and with a slight slump, each team member shook the opponents' hands. They may have hated each other, but even the naive Ms. Pauling, who spent most of her time cooped up in a cubicle without access to the action going on outside, knew that without the healthy competition of RED and BLU industries, the mercenaries would be bored out of their bullet-cracked skulls.

"Where's that blasted mistress of yours, Paulin'?" Engineer took no time dismantling the oversized sentry gun that camped near the BLU intell. "Ain't she usually the one who tells us when we can and can't hit the hay?"

Ms. Pauling bit the inside of her cheek. "The Administrator left three hours ago."

"Administrator left Ms. Pauling in charge. Smart. Ms. Pauling smart." Heavy wiped the blood from the back of his head from an unfortunate encounter with the Scout's baseball. "We go home early."

The grin on the Demoman's face was wide and toothy. Taking a swig from the rum bottle he held in his large, calloused hand, he smacked his good friend Soldier on the back, causing his helmet to shutter and shift a bit on his head. The two let out hearty, healthy laughs as the RED clad Scout came bounding past them.

"'Ey! Last one to tha showers is a splintered bat!" He cackled to himself, knowing very well that he would not be the last one to the locker rooms.

Ms. Pauling sat back in her chair, sighing contently to herself. Contrary to what her parents and friends had told her, abandoning the life she knew in her small town to work for RED and BLU industries was the best decision of her life. The Administrator, although a cold and unfeeling woman who loved to watch fully grown men (and Scout) with guns and knives repeatedly kill each other, she was the best employer Ms. Pauling had ever worked for. Regardless of working 364 days of the year, Ms. Pauling loved her job. It gave her a place to sleep, free meals, and of course, health insurance.

The two teams lived in the apartment complex located above headquarters. The Administrator lived off-site, much to the teams' pleasure. It was good to have some time away from the shrill, bitter voice of the woman with the cigarette pursed tightly between her dry, cracked lips. And it was shocking to Ms. Pauling to find that the mercs were as friendly to each other as brothers. BLUs and REDs were just rivals in the dustbowl, not the dormitory. The Administrator obviously didn't know of the two teams' secret friendship that blossomed years prior to Ms. Pauling's arrival, and the boys liked to keep it that way.

Soon the building was clear. There wasn't a soul to be found in the resupply rooms, the intelligence rooms, or the main storage room. With the silence repeating back into Ms. Pauling's headpiece, lights flickered off one by one, leaving a slight haze of exit signs that illuminated the archways of the various doorways. It was time to shut down the system, just like she had seen the Administrator do so many times before.

Turn the key to the left once. To the right twice. Enter the code 4522. Systems offline.

With a triumphant smirk, Ms. Pauling adjusted her glasses and made her way to the elevator, ready to retire to bed early for once. She rode the elevator empty, strangely enough, as she usually shared it with the woman that would always tower over her, even without heels. Ms. Pauling tried to make up for it with her tiny kitten heels that she hardly kept her balance in, but to no avail. The movement of the elevator was soothing...but...it was doing something to her stomach. Something unpleasant.

Suddenly feeling sick, Ms. Pauling leaned against the support, taking deep breaths to herself. It was passing, but only slightly. A heavy burn began in her chest, but after a few solid pounds to her chest, she seemed to feel better. "Oof... That was some nasty heartburn..." She muttered softly to herself.

Shifting from the silence of the elevator to the bustling activity of the dormitory hallway was always an overwhelming experience. The mercs were always throwing something at each other. Ms. Pauling was fortunate that this time it wasn't what she thought it would have been. Sniper stood in his doorway, laughing to himself as he watched Scout try in vain to hit Demoman with the jars of milk he kept stashed in his room.

"Ay that's a right accurate aim ya got there, Scoot! I thinkya need yer eyes checked!!" Demoman cackled to himself pointing at Sniper for backup.

"Look who's talkin', Cyclops! I'd like to see ya hit ME with one of these jars here!"

"I'd watch yourself, mate." Sniper chuckled. "Ya lookin' for a challenge ya ain't gonna win."

"Oh yeah?" Scout braced, his dog tags shifting on his bare chest. "We can't all have great aim like you, Mr.--"

It was then that Demoman caught the drooping eyes of Ms. Pauling who came from the elevator soundlessly. It didn't take Ms. Pauling long for fatigue to hit her. "Well lookee here, lads! We got ourselves a lil' bird headin' to her nest!"

Scout, in a flurry, straightened up, puffing out his chest to make his scrawny bosom look fuller and sculpted. He slouched in the doorway, eyebrows raised as he intently watched her walk by. "Heeey Ms. P! Loved the announcement. S'always good to hear a new voice other than that tobacco addicted she-demon we usually hear. Say, uh...wanna head down to the Mess Hall and get a midnight sn--"

Glass shattered everywhere as white fluid drenched the boy from head to toe. Demoman could hardly contain himself as he roared with laughter, Sniper joining him as the two doubled over at the sheer stupidity that had unfolded before them. Ms. Pauling smiled and giggled to herself as she watched an embarrassed and indignant Scout nearly screech with insults as he stood nearly chest to chest with the double-his-size Demoman, still wheezing from tiredness-induced laughter.

"Scout, you know perfectly well..." Ms. Pauling tried to speak over the laughter and profane words spewing from the adolescents' mouth, but found it a superfluous task. Smoothing down her plum colored dress once more, she headed towards her apartment, letting a small, insignificant laugh and the words "Good night, boys." slip through her lips.

It seemed as though everybody was in their rooms and out of the washroom at the end of the hall. The rooms were locked up tight, sans the three hooligans that still roared with laughter in the hallway. They had looked quite clean, assuming that they were through with showers. That was the one downside of living with the mercs: they take forever in the showers.

And it was a community shower too. No privacy whatsoever, unless there was nobody else in the bathroom.

Looking at her frizzing hair tied back in a loose chignon bun, Ms. Pauling took a deep breath and sighed to herself. It was high time that she had a little time to herself.

Ms. Pauling fancied a shower.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't updated in like 4 months, I am trash but I'm going to KEEP GOING.

The shower's cubicles were lined against the tiled walls with only a mere privacy bar at the natural waist. It wasn't suitable for a woman's body; it shouldn't have had the need to be, considering that Miss Pauling was the only woman who lived on the floor. Naturally, it was engineered to suit a man's needs -- a mercenary's needs. Nevertheless, the petite little woman of a secretary learned to live with it. Ever since they were assigned to the apartments to cut down on the "collateral damage" the teams did to each other in Teufort, Miss Pauling was subjected to a life of living with 9 fully grown men.

No, "subjected" wasn't the right word.

Fortunate.

Fortunate was the right word.

There were some perks, as well as some drawbacks. Of course, she was always protected from whatever the world had to offer. A burglar would dare not invade an apartment floor occupied by Mann Co.'s best mercenaries. They had been given guns, after all. It was their job to own guns, and to fire them too.

And fire them, they did.

The hot water felt good against her bare skin. The steam that rose from the tiles was like a cloud of soft, warm fabric that held her tightly. She sighed with relief as her nausea passed, her muscles relaxing in the sauna that built around her. As sure as the morning sun, she kept note on this, and made a note to make sure to return to the treatment if it occurred again. The soap in the shower was specifically designed for men, but she couldn't have been bothered. It did the same for her hair as well as her skin. Squinting at the bottle, she made sure that she was grabbing her favorite. Her vision was so poor without her glasses that it was nearly impossible to differentiate the bottles from one another.

"Darn it all..." She grumbled to herself as she set down her third bottle.

"It is ze one closest to your foot, kleiner vogel. Little bird."

The voice made her jump in surprise.

She whipped around to see a familiar face join her. Her face of shock melted away as she locked eyes with the tall man entering the shower next to her. She went back to scrubbing her hair. "It's impolite to intrude on a lady while she's taking a shower, Doctor."

A playful grin spread on the Medic's face as he turned the shower on. Water came spraying down on him, sprinkling his dark salt and pepper hair. "Ah yes, but this is a communal locker'oom iz it not?" His thick German accent echoed in the locker room hollowly. "So, by my rights, I am allowed to uze ze locker'oom anytime I vant."

Miss Pauling rolled her eyes. "And if the others saw you in here with me?"

She covered her forehead with her hands to keep water from dripping into her bright eyes. Medic blushed a bit. She was quite a lovely woman. A woman he was fortunate enough to call his. They had been courting for more than a year, and flirting many months more. The secret infatuation was nearly instant. Now, he could hardly remember the shy, small-town girl who hid behind her clipboard when confronted by the mercs. All he saw was the beautiful and loyal Miss Clara Pauling.

"Well I'd give zem a run for zeir money. It's impolite to spy on a woman naked." He grinned.

Miss Pauling giggled to herself. He was handsome. He had always been handsome. She knew he was self conscious of the salt and pepper growing in on the sides of his head. He had always had that, even when she was just an intern. She found him...different...than the other mercenaries. He was smart. Sure, the Engineer was smart. He had 11 PhD's to prove it. But Medic was a different kind of smart. The same kind of smart that birthed the impossible. Like Einstein. Or Alexander Graham Bell. When others say that things were impossible, people like the Medic made it possible. That was the intelligence that the Medic possessed.

"How was the fight today?"

"Nozhing more zhan uzual." He replied. "And how vas vurking for ze she-devil ve call our boss?"

"Nothing more than usual."

A thought came to her head.

"Although..." She paused. Maybe it wasn't a smart idea to tell Medic of her sudden, crippling nausea. He was quite over-obsessive and paranoid, as many geniuses were. When it came to her health, even the slightest headache made him spring into alarm.

"...Although vhat?" He looked through the layers of glass curiously.

"Nothing. It's nothing." She said quickly.

"What?" He ground out the word, emphasizing every detail in the English word, as if to weigh it down with suspicion.

"Nothing!" She chirped. "Really, it's nothing. I was just about to mention that...uh..." She scrambled for an excuse. "...We may be getting a new arena soon!"

Medic's expression changed again. "Oh! Vell then, I don't know vhat the problem vas vith telling me about it."

"Well we might not get the land..." Miss Pauling added quickly.

"Zhat's understandable."

Miss Pauling blinked. It was coming back again. It was more violent this time to the point where it was intolerable. A lightheadedness came to her quickly. In a flurry, the heat became too hard to handle and she felt her cheeks flush. Her hand whipped out, trying to steady against wet, smooth glass. A hand flew to her stomach. She wretched suddenly, gagging. Her knees buckled and her feet slipped. She collapsed to her knees, flesh hitting rough tile within an instant. A deep-throated noise leaped up her throat. She doubled over, water now cold and spurning, drilling into her back. In her rush, she couldn't even hear Medic calling her name.

Suddenly, she was wrapped in a soft towel, her legs dangling in the air as her body was clutched tight to Medic's bare chest as he held her close. Her eyes struggled to keep open. The nausea was starting to pass. If only she could stay like this...and not move...

She was upright once more. She was hardly stable and held onto Medic's shoulder for balance. A soft hand brushed the damp strands of her hair that had plastered to her reddened cheeks. He supported her, holding her close as he examined her. A shroud of worry was painted across his face as he desperately searched for some kind of answer.

"...Talk to me..." His words were foggy, but pleading.

"Mm...?" was all she could manage.

"Vas ze shower too hot? Have you been feeling okay? Did you eat anyzing funny today?"

Miss Pauling weakly shook her head.

"Zhat doesn't help me. Come on. Talk to me, please."

"I... I guess I just..." She stammered. "I'm very tired..."

It was hardly a passable answer, but Medic let it slide. It was apparent that she was exhausted. The bloodshot eyes and the inability to keep them from blinking told the story of an overworked young woman. Scooping her up in his arms again, he covered her in a large towel to keep her warm. Carrying her from the locker room, the hallway was dark and quiet. It was clear the mercs had gone to bed, which was exactly what the Medic had hoped for. He didn't need eight other men wondering why Miss Pauling was passed out naked in his arms.

Medic sighed, staring down at his love as he tucked her into her bed. He pulled the sheets to her chin. She was breathing softly, silently. Medic held his own breath to see if he could hear her, just in case his eyes were deceiving him. Her skin was soft to touch in his rough and calloused working hands. He brushed along her cheek, pushing back her velvet hair. It sprawled around her head like a flower's petals. The sweet smell of the perfume on her bed made Medic smile. It was a familiar smell.

Yet nothing could mask the worry that had been over Medic through the ordeal. It was unlike her to fall so ill so suddenly. It scared him. He nearly offered to call her in sick for her, but he knew that she would resent him for it. The girl would work herself to death if she didn't learn to take it slow.

Medic leaned down, kissing her forehead softly.

"Gute nacht, my little bird..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's like 2 am forgive my mistakes.

**Author's Note:**

> To make some things clear, for this fic, there are no copies. The RED team has Pyro, Medic, Demoman, and Soldier. The BLU team has Sniper, Heavy, Engineer, Spy, and Scout.


End file.
